


I Didn’t Do Anything, I Swear It!

by Slytheringirle



Series: Just A Little Something [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Mention of a past drug addiction, it’s just a mention, nothing explict though, really - Freeform, ’Taire is a bad boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytheringirle/pseuds/Slytheringirle
Summary: Grantaire is bored in Maths class, again, but he’s promised Enjolras to pay attention, and Grantaire sticks to his promises. But when he pulls out his sketchbook to check something, the teacher thinks he’s sketching and sends him to the principle’s office.





	I Didn’t Do Anything, I Swear It!

**Author's Note:**

> Un betad. I don’t think I’ll beta anything in this series, cuz I wanna post the fic as soon as I’m done with it. Though I’ll try my best to not leave any mistakes.  
> .  
> I started this about two weeks ago and I finally got around to finish it. I was frustated at the Math teacher for thinking I was studying for another subject while I was just checking how many pages were included, but we all know ‘taire would never study willingly.

‘’Do you have anything to say for yourself Mr.Grantaire?’’ Asked Mr. Smith from where he was standing at the front of the class, anger etched on every part of his face. He was a tall, bulky man with white thick hair capable of scaring the living daylights out of Satan himself.

 Grantaire merely smirked and tilted his head to the side, unfazed. ‘’I was bored,’’ he said with a slight shrug. He hadn’t even been trying to hide the sketchbook, he’d just wanted to check something while the teacher was writing down a question; he hadn’t been explaining!

 There were a few snickers from around him, but he could see Enjolras rolling his eyes from the front desk, exasperated. He’d promised the blond to not cause a scene again after the time he was caught drawing while they were revising for their midterms; he’d wasted the class arguing with the teacher and Enjolras had to stay during lunch for a couple of questions -it had also been in Math. He’ll have a hell of a time convincing him that he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.

 Mr.Smith’s cold grey eyes burned with anger; almost as much as Enjolras’s blue ones did over the cause. Almost. “Principal's office.” He gritted,through clenched teeth. “Now.”

 “With pleasure,” he grinned, bowing his head a little before before grabbing his stuff and walking towards the door, waving his hand without looking back as an acknowledgement of the snickers.

 He walked down the silent hallway slowly, half-tempted to go grab his keys and head out. They only had Chemistry and Physics after this which, while not as bad as Math, aren’t that much better. Goddamnit, how is it far that they have Math five times a week and Art only twice? He’ll have to talk to Enjolras about starting a protest concerning the matter.

 At the end he goes to the principal’s office, figuring it’s better not to give Enjolras more reasons to be pissed at him for. Knocking on the door, he ruffled his hair pulled at his jumper, making it look like he’d been in a fight. He had a reputation to keep after all.

 “Enter,” came a voice from the other side. He opened the door and slipped in, shutting it softly behind him, a hand in buried in his pocket as he walked towards the middle of the room. “Ah, Grantaire. To what do I owe the pleasure.” Asked Dr. Jean Valjean upon looking up from his paperwork and seeing the brunet.

 “Mr.Smith sent me.” He answered, looking Valjean in the eye.

 “And I suppose he had his reasons?”

 Valjean’s voice was gentle -he’d always been gentle with Grantaire, something about second chances- and he thought maybe he’d let the bad boy facade drop for a moment. “I was only checking something in my sketchbook! I wasn’t even trying to hide it!”

 “But you must look at from his point of view. He’s trying to teach a class, Grantaire, and you’re just sitting there flipping through a sketchbook. And let’s not forget that that’s not the first you’ve been caught not paying attention.”

 “But I was only checking something!” He insisted, “so whether I do something or I don’t do it I still get in trouble? Perfect.”

 Valjean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Grantaire, you don’t exactly have the best reputation with the teachers.” He said, looking back to him. “But I’ll let you off this time since you say you didn’t actually do anything. Just be careful next time, will you? I’m sure you don’t want to end up in detention.”

 “Thank you sir,” he said and all but ran to the door. Once he was out, he threw his bag on the floor and collapsed on it, relief flooding his veins. While detention and suspension where nothing new to him - heck, he was actually proud to get them sometimes- he was never keen on them if he hadn’t earned them. And plus, staying at home would mean staying away from Enjolras, and he can’t have that now, can he?

 The bell then rang, signalling the freedom of hundreds of prisoners, and perhaps the disappointment of an angel. He’d always marveled at the fact that Enjolras hated breaks. The guy always complained about the educational system and how outdated it was, how everyone was treated like robots and that no one should be forced to take a class they can’t ace in, or don’t want to take it. He also complained about how the teachers restricted the students, about how they made them stick by the rules and not think outside the box, so the fact that he hated breaks was unbelievable to say the least.

 Mindless chatter flooded the halls as the classes were emptied, everyone beyond happy of the end of whatever hell they were being put through. Grantaire picked his bag up and swing it over his shoulder, making his way to the lockers. Enjolras and the others were already there when he arrived. Joly and Bossuet patted him on the back, congratulating him on what he did. Courfeyrac grinned and told him that he’d never seen Mr.Smith that angry, making Grantaire’s chest swell with pride, even though he hadn’t actually done anything. Combeferre merely grinned, but the blond he was looking forward to seeing wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes fixed on the locker he was rummaging through.

 “Hey,” he said softly, walking up to him. Enjolras didn’t acknowledge him. “I didn’t break my promise, you know. I was just checking something and the teacher thought I was sketching or something.” He hated it when he disappointed Enjolras. After a minute of silence, Enjolras finally looked at him, “you’re just two detentions away from expulsion!” He hissed, “that’s your future Grantaire! It’s not a game!”

 He leaned back against the lockers, eyeing his boyfriend. “And what does it matter to you if my future’s destroyed?” He said, his tone cold. “If I end up on the streets? God know my parents never cared, why should you?”

 Enjolras looked incredulous. “Because I love you! I know it’s cliché, but I love you and I went the best for you. Please don’t throw your future away, you have potential, I know you do. Your sketches look like a professional’s, you won’t have a problem getting a scholarship with them.”

 Grantaire’s brain, however, had stopped functioning at the words _I love you_. No one had ever said these words to him, not his parents and not his friends, though the latter have more than proven their love when they helped him with his drug addiction. And to hear Enjolras of all people say it to him… “I love you too,” he whispered, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

 “God,” groaned Enjolras, slamming his hand against his forehead. “Was that all you heard?”   

 Grantaire was smiling fully now. “C’m here,” he said, pulling Enjolras closer to him and hugging him. “I’ll pay attention in class from now on, I swear it. But just so you know, I was only checking a sketch.”

 “I know,” said Enjolras, hugging him back, and he could’ve sworn that he heard a smile in his voice.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are forever appreciated!  
> .  
> And can you please rate my writing? Like tell me what you like and don’t like about the style, or if there is a style at all. Maybe even tell me how I can improve?


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